Staking His Claim (9 page)

When she settled down, Matt reached up with one hand and trailed his fingertips over her breast. “You are sweet all over, aren’t you? Your mouth. Your nipples.” Gently, he bit the inside of her thigh before licking away the sting. “Your pussy.” His tongue found her center again, flicking her sensitive clitoris gently. “I like hearing you beg, baby. Do it again.”

She moaned, taking her own hair in restless fists. “That was…I mean, holy—”

“Lucy.” Matt pushed and dragged his painful erection against the side of the ottoman. “Again.”

“No.” She tried to sit up. “Come up here with me.”

He pushed her thighs open with a growl. “
Yes. I’d like another one, please
. That’s the correct response.”

For one emotionally charged moment, she only watched him through hooded eyes, as if she might protest again. Until he savored her in a long, hard lick. Her body shuddered, knees falling wide once more. “Y-yes. I’d like another one, pleas—
Oh, God
.”

Chapter Nine

Lucy woke with a start when her internal studio audience began chanting her name, softly at first, then louder and louder. As if she’d done something to earn their approval. But what? Her eyes flew open, the events of the evening crashing through her memory like a rhinoceros in the jungle. Matt showing up at her door looking anguished. Hungry. Him pleasuring her from his knees her until her vocal cords went raw. He’d basically sent her into an orgasm coma. Should that fact cause her embarrassment or make her feel like a rock star?

Her studio audience immediately ceased chanting her name and started in with
rock star, rock star, rock star
! She felt her lips tilt up in a satisfied grin. Damn straight, rock star. Call her Mick Jagger because—

Someone shifted behind her in the gigantic guest bed and Lucy stifled a squeak of panic. A heavy arm slipped around her midsection, rugged male stubble scraping her neck, accompanied by a satisfied noise. A clean scent filled her nose, mouthwateringly masculine. It calmed her, even as it made her belly flutter with sudden nerves. Matt had
stayed
over
last night? She didn’t remember him carrying her to bed, nor had she let herself think past their stolen moments together. Not with Matt, who continued to be elusive.

Despite his attempt to punish her in the park, she’d quickly transitioned from anger to a puddle of trembling need. Something that seemed to happen frequently where Matt was concerned. She’d heard the rawness in his voice and had no choice but to open the door. His expression as he’d stood silhouetted by the streetlamp had been her final undoing. Regret had been a living thing written all over his face. Before she’d formed a rational thought, he’d been touching her, kissing her, talking to her in a hushed, overtly sexual manner that gave her goose bumps every time it whispered through her mind. Instead of giving him hell like she’d planned on doing if they ever crossed paths again, she’d spread her thighs quicker than a Pilates instructor.

She didn’t know what it meant that he’d never, at any point last night, taken his own pleasure. She’d been more than willing to give it to him, remembered telling him so explicitly on more than one occasion, in fact
.
Yet he’d continued to deny himself, even though he’d been noticeably aroused. As in, wood for
days
. However, orgasms notwithstanding, they hadn’t actually
talked
about what seemed to keep happening between them, so in the light of day, last night felt kind of like one of those dreams that leaves you feeling anxious and confused about its meaning.

His hips pushed against her bottom then, thoroughly distracting her. Arousal laced through her when she felt his erection, throbbing and insistent behind her. Since he hadn’t spoken, she didn’t know if he was awake or if his body did all the talking. His muscled arm tightened, drawing her back against his chest, grinding his hips slowly, melting her into a sensual puddle. She felt him shift, then the sound of a foil rapper being ripped open. His hand slipped between their bodies to roll on a condom.

“Going to fuck you now, Lucy,” he growled into her hair.

Her breath caught. “About time.”

His hand traced up her throat to her jaw and squeezed. “Watch the way you speak to me.”

A furious beat began pounding within Lucy. How many sides were there to this man? Cherishing one minute, demanding the next. She couldn’t keep up, yet both sides did incredible things to her. At the movie last night, she’d been upset over his using her lie as a reason to withhold pleasure, but up to that point the delayed gratification had been a huge turn-on. Even after what they’d done so far, she suspected he was still holding back. She wanted more…all of it.

“I’m sorry,” she heard herself say, the sound of her hoarse apology somehow turning her on even more. So did the fact that she hadn’t actually seen his face yet, only heard his voice, felt his body. It felt like an erotic fantasy, except her body’s reactions told her she was most definitely wide-awake.

Swiftly, Matt yanked her panties down to her ankles. Holding her breath, she kicked them off the rest of the way, anxiously waiting for his next move. His hand rested on her knee for a moment, the touch in itself sending pings of electricity racing along her skin. Then he jerked it high and pulled it back to rest on his thigh, leaving her open, her center exposed.

“Did I, or did I not, lick your beautiful pussy last night until you lost consciousness?” He plunged two thick fingers inside her, making her moan loudly. “An answer, Lucy.”

“Y-yes,” she answered on a shudder. “That happened.”

He rotated his fingers, leisurely stroking her sensitive inner walls. “So when you say ‘about time’ it makes me wonder what the hell you’re talking about.”

It didn’t seem possible after the countless climaxes she’d reached last night, but her belly tightened again like a snare drum, an ache forming low and heavy, all controlled by Matt’s hand. She racked her brain for a way to answer him that would make him continue touching her. “I was talking about you. You didn’t—”

He delivered a sharp smack between her legs. “I didn’t what?”

“
Ah!
” Shocked pleasure flooding her, Lucy searched for an adequate response. Her clitoris throbbed where he’d delivered the stinging slap. There was pain, but oh, mostly just driving need so strong she shook. “I wanted you inside me.”

“Oh, I remember.” His amused answer sent warm breath washing over her ear. “All your hot begging and moaning. ‘
Please, Matt. Fuck me. Fuck me. I need it so bad.’
” Another ringing slap between her thighs, right over her sensitive bundle of nerves. “Do you enjoy making me crazy?”

Lucy whimpered as his thumb stroked her clitoris. “A little bit, yeah.”

“Wrong answer.” Without warning, he drove his erection home inside of her. “
Fuuuuuck
.”

The same long, drawn-out blasphemy echoed in Lucy’s head, but all that came out was a muffled scream. After hours of needing to be filled by Matt, it had finally happened and somehow it beat the memory of the last time, an incredible feat since he’d blown her mind in that motel room. He felt enormous, throbbing deep inside her, but he didn’t move. She suspected he was calming himself, getting used to the sensation of their joined bodies. The evidence that she affected him as much as he affected her filled her with confidence. Made her feel wanted. Needed
.
Vital.

“Pull your knees up to your chest.” His voice was gravel. “Keep them there. And hang the fuck on.”

She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms beneath them, eyes fluttering closed in anticipation. When he mimicked her actions, overlapping her banded arms and pulling her tighter against him, they let out a simultaneous groan. She didn’t think two people could get any closer than they were at that moment, her curled up on her side with his body enveloping her. “Oh, please.
Please
,” she breathed, needing him to move.

Slowly, he withdrew, then rammed in deeper than before. “No more begging or you’ll be doing it from your knees. Do you hear me?” He sounded as though he spoke through clenched teeth.

She nodded frantically. “Yes.”
Again, again.
Please keep moving.

He took himself out inch by inch before driving back in, to the hilt. “I can still taste you on my tongue, baby. I woke up twice last night wanting more.” Five quick thrusts had her sobbing his name. God, he went so deep. Deeper than she’d thought possible. “You trying to make me an addict?”

“Yes!” She shouted the word without thinking, but knew immediately it was true. Yes, right now, with him pinpointing every need in her trembling body with perfect precision, she wanted him addicted to her. She didn’t care who knew or what he thought about it, either. Just needed more.

“Is that so?” His teeth bit into her shoulder, hips beginning to pump wildly. “Mission accomplished.”

Her orgasm rose swiftly to the surface. Using what little leverage she had, Lucy worked her hips back and forth, meeting his thrusts. The friction sent her closer, so deliriously close, she could taste blood from where her teeth sank into her lips. A scream formed in her throat as it began to overtake her.

Matt slowed his assault, laughing darkly when she cried out. “You will wait, Lucy. I’m not ready to stop fucking you yet. And that’s exactly what will happen if you tighten up on me. I’ll blow straight into your pussy.”

She felt dizzy and hot. Her legs were shaking out of control, but she had no choice but to absorb his long, measured thrusts, even though she wanted to scream for him to go faster. “Oh God. I’m going to die.”

Matt withdrew completely and flipped her onto her back. She had no time to prepare before he shoved her thighs wide and slammed into her. Over and over and over. He took her hands and pinned them over her head as he groaned into her neck. Lucy could only cry his name toward the ceiling as her release hovered close once more. She tried to hold back, knowing he would slow down if she showed signs of reaching the end. The sight of his sleek body and handsome, concentrated face above her wouldn’t let her, though, and her core started to clench desperately around his arousal. She knew he felt it when he threw back his head on a moan.

“Matt, please. I can’t
wait
.”

Without pausing his brutal thrusts, he leaned down and bit her bottom lip. “You come because I allow it. You only do it for me.”

“Yes.
Yes!
”

“Squeeze me, then. Milk it out of me.”

Lucy raked her fingernails down his ass, yanking him closer as she contracted her inner walls. She kept her eyes open, memorizing the way his jaw went slack, eyes unseeing as he imploded, jerking heavily inside her. His potent reaction combined with the muscled flesh of his backside pumping beneath her palms sent her spiraling over the edge, her surroundings becoming insignificant as he worked her through a stunning orgasm.

“Goddammit, Lucy,” he growled, collapsing on top of her. “I can’t stop this. How can I stop?”

Her brain a pile of mush, Lucy could only thread her fingers through his hair, the action soothing them both. When he started to move off of her, she locked her legs around his hips to keep him there. He looked down at her for a quiet moment, then buried his face in her hair.

Shortly after, they fell back asleep.

…

Matt slowed his hurried gait as he walked into the kitchen and found Lucy perched on the counter, wearing an oversize Syracuse T-shirt. She didn’t see him enter at first, looking deep in thought as she…roasted a marshmallow?

He shook his head and propped a shoulder against the wall to watch her, sure he was seeing things. She’d stretched out a wire coat hanger and impaled the fluffy white confection on the end, holding it over the gas burner. Beside her on the counter was an opened box of graham crackers and a king-size Hershey bar. She was making s’mores. At eight o’clock in the morning. The very idea seemed ridiculous, but when paired with Lucy, somehow it made perfect sense. Sunshine streamed in through the kitchen window, picking out the strawberry coloring of her hair, the entire scene a brutal reminder that she was everything he wasn’t. A beacon of light while he stood across the room in the shadows. Everything inside him pushed him toward her, needing to touch that light, but he rebelled against it, convinced it might dim with his influence.

Minutes ago, when he’d woken up and found her gone, he’d been unreasonably panicked. They were in
her
bed, this is where she was
staying
. She couldn’t have gone far. It hadn’t stopped him from hurriedly dragging on his pants and striding out of the bedroom in pursuit of her.

Irrational. Everything about his reaction to this girl was irrational. He hadn’t even meant to stay the night, merely wanted to hold her for a while. To know what it felt like. Next thing he’d known, he’d woken up and found her ass molded to his lap, his cock so hard he couldn’t see reason or think straight. There had been no turning back at that point.
Get inside her or die.
The thought had rung in his skull, setting him on her like a starving man. He’d lacked control, dominating her, making demands…and loving the hell out of every single minute. Until he’d woken and found her gone.

He’d been too rough. Exposed too much of himself. She’d run.

He still didn’t know if that was the case. She sat with her brow furrowed, rotating the marshmallow above the flame, a gentle hum emanating from her luscious lips, but she gave nothing away. Yet.

“S’mores aren’t exactly a nutritious breakfast,” Matt remarked, walking toward the refrigerator.

“
Oh!
” She jerked, knocking the box of graham crackers onto the ground. With a scowl, she shoved her curls behind her ears and slipped off the counter to retrieve it, careful to keep the marshmallow positioned correctly over the burner. As she bent over, he caught a glimpse of her pink boy shorts and barely restrained a growl. “Don’t be grumpy. There’s enough for both of us.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Watching your figure?”

No, I’m watching yours.
He cleared his throat and opened the refrigerator, seeing that it was empty save a carton of orange juice and green grapes. She’d gone to the store and bought the materials to make s’mores and nothing else? He sighed, shutting the fridge door. “All right. Make me one.”

Her face lit up, cutting off the oxygen to his brain. “When Brent and I were kids—” She cut herself off, her pretty gaze flying to his when she realized she’d referred to the pink elephant in the room. Her brother. His best friend. Matt felt an uncomfortable churning in his gut but didn’t say anything and after a moment, she notched her chin up and continued. “When we were kids, my mom refused to take us camping. She hated bugs.
Anything
wildernessrelated, really. So once a year our dad moved the table out of the kitchen and pitched a tent. We made s’mores this way.”

The way she smiled fondly at the memory made him want to dive across the kitchen and drag her into his arms, but once again, he stayed put. “Camping, Queens-style,” he said, instead.